


Two Silver Medals and a Boyfriend

by DamnSterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Derek Hale & Isaac Lahey Friendship, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Eternal Sterek, Figure Skater Stiles Stilinski, First Kiss, Gay, Hockey Player Derek Hale, Ice Skating, Innocent Derek Hale, Innocent Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Olympics, One Shot, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Relationship, PyeongChang 2018 Winter Olympics, Sharing a Room, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd & Derek Hale Friendship, Winter Olympics, figure skating, ice hockey, or not?, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamnSterek/pseuds/DamnSterek
Summary: Stiles and Derek had been good friends during their primary education, things changed after Stiles went to High School. Beacon Hills, however, is a small place to live in, so it was inevitable that the two would meet again. Most of their time they spend at the ice rink, so how about a challenge? The fact that they would both compete in the Olympics did not help their matter. Would Stiles finally figure out how their friendship got ruined? And maybe more?___OR, the one where Stiles and Derek go to South-Korea for the Olympics and figure out where they went wrong. Also, lots of figure skating.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Two Silver Medals and a Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> Okay, so let me share my life story with you. You guys have no idea how much research I have done, like seriously. I knew nothing about figure skating or the Olympics in South-Korea (I mean, I watched parts, but it's three years ago, I don't have that much capacity in my brains). Anyways, I got distracted all the time and watched so many videos, I'm officially in love with figure skating: LOVE IT!
> 
> Back to the story, I first watched a TikTok and immediately imagined it with Sterek and then suddenly it became a much larger story than I had predicted, even involving the Olympics. So, all the original characters are real (the figure skaters) and most of the points and stuff is also real. I just made up that Nathan Chen had injured himself, I'm not even sure it is allowed to let someone else skate for you, but oh well. Also Stiles' Charlie Chaplin routine is based on Javier Fernandez, who actually skated it during the Olympics.
> 
> Okido, before I spoil too much... (sorry, just really excited) There are two small parts that may be considered mature, if you want to know about it, see the notes at the end. 
> 
> Have fun reading!

Stiles has no idea how it happened. He just knew one thing: he hated Derek Hale with every cell in his body. So, there was only one way to handle this. _Defeat the bastard._

_~_

“Stiles,” Scott whined. “It’s cold, let’s go.”

Stiles twirled around another time, stopping with a perfect stance.

“You have practiced enough for today, you’re a natural, I mean come on,” Scott said.

When Stiles looked up at his best friend on the sideline, he took pity on him and his large Bambi eyes.

“Fine!” he yelled back from the other side of the skating rink. He did just another round, before deciding it was enough for the day.

That was when he saw _them_ approach the rink. The hockey players. He made a gagging sound, even when no one was around to hear it.

It was just three of them. Isaac Lahey, he was the one Stiles liked the most. Not cocky at all, a little weird sometimes, but they could laugh. And he was an average player. Vernon Boyd, who just went by his last name. He was cool, silent and scary, but cool. And _Derek Hale_. Let’s just say, he was one of those people you’d rather just punch in the face. All day long. Until he learned that figure skating was not as _fucking_ easy as he thought it was and _yes_ , it is a fucking sport.

Apparently, Stiles had some pent-up frustration. But when did he not?

“Hi, Stiles!” Isaac smiled, skating past him, towards the goal. Stiles gave him a smile back.

Boyd nodded at him; Stiles nodded back.

Derek Hale, though, he had the audacity to stop right in front of Stiles.

“Stilinski.”

“Hale.”

It stayed quiet for a moment. Then, “So, you’re going to Korea too?”

Stiles’ soul was jumping summersaults. Yes, yes he was. “South-Korea, actually,” he corrected. “And yes I am.”

Derek flared his nostrils, probably doing his best not to smash Stiles’ head in with his hockey stick.

You see, Stiles and Derek had never liked each other – or at least since Stiles went to High School. Derek was cocky; Stiles was sarcastic. Derek hung out with Jackson and the other supposedly popular kids back in high school; Stiles liked to be in the library or with Scott near the lacrosse field. Derek was a hockey player; Stiles was a figure skater.

The only thing they – maybe – had in common, even though neither one of them would ever admit it out loud, was their love for the Beacon Hills ice rink. Nothing, not even the fancy ones, could ever beat their slightly damaged rink.

“Still can’t believe trying to be pretty at the ice is supposed to be a sport,” he bit back.

“If it’s so easy, try to beat me,” Stiles blurted back, annoyed.

Derek looked at him through his helmet, and then nodded sharply. “Fine, let’s make a bet.”

“I’m all ears,” Stiles answered.

“You make me do your stuff and I’ll make you play hockey, which is a real sport by the way, and then we’ll see which one has it harder.”

“Fine,” Stiles answered, not fazed.

“Fine,” Derek echoed.

“Good,” Stiles shrugged.

“Good,” Derek echoed again. “Tomorrow, Stilinski.” Then he skated towards Isaac and Boyd, who had started playing.

Stiles skated towards the exit and changed his skates quickly for his shoes. Scott was shivering, but patiently waiting on his best friend.

“What was that with Derek?” he asked, as they walked out of the building.

Stiles shrugged. “We made a bet,” he answered. It slowly dawned upon him what they were supposed to do.

Oh, Derek Hale was going to lose this.

~

“From here, till the edge,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded. Okay, they would see who was fastest. He got this.

“Three, two, one, go!”

Stiles gave everything he had, but from the beginning he was slightly behind Derek, who reached the edge first.

“One point for Derek,” Isaac declared, and Scott wrote it down.

Stiles kept his annoyed huff inside. Fine. He got this.

“Let’s do it backwards,” he proposed, suppressing his slick grin.

“Okay,” Derek shrugged nonchalantly.

_The bastard._

Scott counted down again and they both took off. It took Stiles barely four seconds, which made him win the round.

“One point for Stiles,” Isaac declared again, and Scott wrote it down again.

“Try a spin!” Scott yelled, shivering in his jacket.

Stiles immediately did. Derek followed swift, and a lot worse. He was off balance and even almost tripped.

“Another point for Stiles,” Isaac said, trying not to get scared under Derek’s gaze.

“Definitely,” Scott grinned, writing the point down. “Easy jump!” he yelled next.

Again the duo followed his orders, Stiles earning another point, by far.

“How come we’re only doing your stuff?” Derek grunted.

Stiles cocked his head, rising an eyebrow. “What? You’re scared to lose, _Hale_? Just give up already.”

Derek locked his jaw for a moment. “Pick up the stick, and we’ll see about giving up.”

Stiles grabbed Isaac’s hockey stick and skated back to Derek, who was standing in the middle of the rink.

“Show me your skills!” Isaac yelled, just like Scott had earlier.

Derek skated forward with the puck, dribbling with it, and playing with it by shooting it through his legs. Then he almost reached the goal, where he scored easily.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. That was probably going to be harder than it looked, but oh well. It was 2-1 in his favor.

He skated forward with the puck too, just like Derek had done, only he didn’t dare to pass it through his legs. But he did a nice twirl with it. For that it was worth it, because he shot the puck at least three feet next to the goal.

“One point for Derek!”

“Long distance shot,” Derek challenged. Without waiting for Stiles’ response he scored perfectly.

Stiles knew he’d never make it, but giving up was no option. He shot the puck too, but it didn’t even get close to the goal. If their match was just friendly, he would’ve laughed at how pathetic that looked. But Derek’s snort got on his nerves.

“Another one for Derek.”

“Fine,” Stiles said, throwing Isaac’s stick – probably a little too harsh – to the side. “Try to keep up,” he challenged Derek, before skating off.

He started off with an easy counter turn, followed by a small jump. Then he grinned, doing a layback spin, and ending with an I-spin.

“I’m not doing that,” Derek said, annoyed.

“Why not?” Stiles asked, tauntingly skating around the older boy.

“I’m not a fan of splitting my balls open, by looking ridiculous,” he said, as monotone as ever.

Stiles stopped skating. He had to count to three in his head, before talking back. “Fine, Hale, I won.” Stiles skated to Isaac and Scott.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked immediately.

“I’m going to punch that motherfucker in the throat, and murder him, like, Scott,” he groaned. “To death.”

“Fine, fine,” Scott immediately stood up, sensing Stiles’ seriousness. “Let’s go, it’s even, anyways.”

“I won,” Stiles declared, putting his shoes on as fast as humanly possible, before storming out of the building.

_Screw you, Derek Hale._

~

After that unfortunate day, Stiles and Derek had completely ignored one another. They were not into the same rink anymore, when one of them came, the other went home. When they saw each other on the street, one of them would cross the street.

The Stilinski’s and McCall’s were counting down the days until they would go to PyeongChang. Stiles still could not believe he would go to the Olympics. It was just… unbelievable. It was a dream come true, something he had worked his ass off for.

But January flew by and they would leave for South-Korea a week before the games would start at February 8th.

Stiles went sightseeing in South-Korea with his father, Scott, and Melissa the first few days. When they weren’t outside he tested the ice rink — that was much, _much_ fancier than the one back in Beacon Hills.

The 16th of February didn’t come soon, though. That would be Stiles’ game and he looked forward to it. He was rooting so hard for himself. Only being here, at the Olympics, was such an honor. But he’d feel accomplished to earn a medal, _any_ one.

Because, Stiles was a realist. And there were other figure skaters that were _good_. He was especially scared of the two Japanese guys. He had seen them train when he had walked by the rink once or twice.

“Hey, kiddo, feeling excited?” his dad asked, getting him out if his thoughts.

Just what he needed. “Yeah, so excited, dad, I mean, who would have ever thought…” he smiled content.

“I did,” his father said encouraging. “I’m so proud of you, son.” He enveloped Stiles in a big hug, which Stiles welcomed.

~

It was unfortunately only a matter of time before the Americans that had made the Games decided to hang out with each other, and Stiles could only decline so many times.

“Stiles, come on,” Chris – one of the pair skaters – sighed. “I swear to God, I’ll drag you with me. It’s the last day we can just hang out, tomorrow is the opening ceremony.”

Stiles groaned. “Fine, but I won’t stay long.”

Together they walked downstairs, where he recognized most people. But there were at least two-hundred participants, so of course he didn’t know everyone.

Michael led them to a table with the other figure skaters. On their left were the skaters, on their right the hockey players.

Isaac recognized him all too soon. “Stiles!”

Stiles turned around, a fake smile on his face, as he looked at the tall, young man. “Isaac, hi,” he greeted back.

The small talk was good, Stiles got into a better mood, as he conversed with all the different contestants. Everybody was as giddy and excited as the other.

Except for one. Someone who was always brooding no matter what. Someone who was always trying to kill people with his eyes. Someone that walked around as if he owned the world.

And that someone looked up, locking his eyes with Stiles’.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. It wouldn’t make any sense to look away now, because Derek had already seen him. So, he slowly, and dreadfully, walked towards him. “Hale,” he greeted surly.

“Stilinski,” Derek greeted back. At least he wasn’t frowning anymore.

Stiles nodded at him and wanted to walk away, but the other man surprised him.

“Sit down,” he said, sliding a little to the left, to make room for Stiles on the couch.

For a moment, Stiles contemplated, but eventually his curiosity won, and he sat down next to his archenemy. He huffed out a laugh at his own thoughts.

“Can you believe it?” Derek asked lowly.

Stiles was shocked. Like, literally, his mouth fell open. Was Derek Hale seriously talking to Stiles as if they were acquaintances, _friends_ even? He just shook his head. “It’s insane,” he breathed, looking around themselves.

Derek made an agreeing sound. “Yeah, it is.” When a waiter walked by, Derek waved him over and ordered curly fries.

Stiles wanted to snort, but he coughed over it. He was sitting next to Derek Hale, and they hadn’t fought. _Yet_. So, he didn’t want to be the one to screw it up.

Then again. Derek Hale? Eat _curly_ fries? He didn’t think Derek even knew it existed.

The same waiter put the basket with fries on their table, a few minutes later.

Stiles was still looking around, sitting like this was not half as bad as he had thought. Until Derek shoved the basket his way.

“You won, remember?” Derek explained, without looking at Stiles.

For a moment Stiles was confused, until he remembered their stupid bet and comparisons at the ice rink, months ago.

“It was a draw,” Stiles answered, pushing the fries back to Derek.

“You won. The loser had to buy the other dinner,” Derek stated. “Besides, you were busy training when they served us dinner.”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. What? Derek had noticed? His teammates had barely even noticed. His head turned to the other man, next to him.

“You’re obnoxious, people notice your absence,” Derek said, still without looking at him, but his ears turned red. It was like he had let that comment slip, without meaning too.

Stiles thought it was nice of him, so he did not comment and just ate the curly fries. He loved curly fries.

Derek seemed content.

Stiles felt content.

~

The Greek team marched at the front. The American team followed not far behind, which Stiles found surprising, until he remembered the row was formed based on the Korean alphabetic order. Which meant their team was placed under the M and not the U.

It looked beautiful. Everyone was happy and cheering and smiling. It was everything and more than Stiles had expected. All the peace and harmony themes around them. The fact that the Korean teams marched together. He loved it. All of it.

The figure skaters where right behind the hockey players and Stiles could see Derek, Isaac, and Boyd. Isaac was happy and waving, trying to get Boyd to wave, which he did reluctantly. Derek seemed emotionless, but when he turned his head and locked his eyes with Stiles’, he saw Derek was in awe.

Stiles was waving, probably a little too hyperactive, but when his eyes locked with Derek’s he faltered for a moment. Then he smiled at the other man, who turned around fast, but not before he shot Stiles a small smile back.

When they were done with the opening ceremony and congratulations of everyone, Stiles went to his room. Tomorrow, it would officially start. The first games would start tomorrow.

The day after tomorrow, Friday, Stiles’ team would have their first game – it was the team event and Nathan Chen would skate for the men’s short program. Stiles had been secretly in love with the young man’s skills for quite some while, especially when he won a golden medal back in 2017.

Stiles was laying in bed, he was alone in the room and hoped to stay alone. There was an uneven number of male skaters, which meant someone had to share a room with a non-skater. But Stiles liked to think he had a room to himself; it happened sometimes.

Adrenaline was pumping through his body, still hearing the applause and the cheering from the ceremony. Still, seeing how people were rooting for their teams. Stiles decided, even if he did not win a medal, he had already accomplished so much.

Half an hour later he was still tossing and turning, he needed to release some energy and relax. So, with his left hand he grabbed the small bottle of lube from his nightstand, while his right hand took off his sweatpants.

Quickly he squirted the content of the small bottle in his right hand, warming it up, before he started to touch himself and play with himself, until he was fully hard. A content sigh left his mouth, when his wet hand touched his head, thumbing at the slit. “ _Jesus_ ,” he groaned, when his hips automatically jerked up.

He started to pump his fist up and down, feeling that familiar pull in his stomach, which came much too fast. Stiles moved his hips to the rhythm of his hand, ruthlessly fucking into his warm, wet fist.

Loud knocking on the front door made him shriek obnoxiously.

He was going to ignore it, he decided immediately. Whoever it was, they’d go away if Stiles didn’t speak. At the same time, he went further with bringing himself to the edge, to his climax.

A small moan left his lips, as he pushed his feet into the mattress. Stiles ignored the loud knocking, or rather banging, again and went further.

He could feel it was just a matter of mere seconds, that was how close he was — until he heard _it_.

“Stilinski!”

Stiles stopped his hand. That could not—

“Open the goddamn door, I know you’re in there,” Derek yelled annoyed.

Shouldn’t he have a key to the room if he were to be Stiles’ roommate? Stiles kept quiet. He did grab the bed sheet with both his hands, however, to ground himself.

“Stilinski,” Derek called again, still trying to break down the door.

Then he heard movement.

“What’s going on, Der?” Isaac asked. He sounded tired.

“The bastard is either sleeping or ignoring me, and his key is still in the door, so I can’t open it,” Derek said annoyed, kicking the door.

“Just ask the staff,” Isaac yawned.

“Yeah, fine,” Derek muttered, just loud enough for Stiles to hear.

_Oh shit._

“Or, call him,” Isaac offered.

Stiles quickly grabbed his phone, which he had tossed to the other side of the bed, and turned on the volume.

“You can just ask if I have his number, no need to look at me like that,” Isaac complained.

Just half a minute later Stiles’ phone rang. He picked up after a moment, trying to sound like he had been asleep.

“Hello?” he mumbled.

“Hi, Stiles, this is Isaac, I’m sorry to bother you, but could you open your door?” Isaac asked, completely polite. He would never hear something like that out of the other man that was standing in front of the door.

“Hmm, just a sec,” he mumbled again. Then he hung up, put his pants on, rushed to the bathroom to wash his hands, before he could open the door. Which he did quickly, before turning around and going to bed again. His dick had never gone down.

The stress only encouraged the blood rush. Maybe he even liked the idea of Derek seeing him jerk off.

_What the actually fuck, Stiles?_

Was he going crazy? Was he insane? What kind of rubbish was he thinking?

Derek walked inside, like he owned the place, glanced at Stiles, and then dropped his stuff next to the other bed. “Pull your key out of the lock from now on.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and turned his back towards the intruder, before actually falling asleep.

~

“Are you insane?” Stiles squeaked the next morning.

“You’re the only one, Stiles,” Nathan said to him. “You helped me train, you know the routine.”

“Are you insane?” he repeated the question.

Derek looked up, silently brooding on his bed that someone was in his room. “Are you stuck?”

Stiles glared at him, before focusing his attention on Nathan again. “You are asking me to make a complete fool out of myself in front of the _whole world_ ,” he said. “And even on such short notice.”

“I take it that is a yes?” Nathan softly smiled, relocating his crutches.

“Absolutely not,” Stiles answered bewildered. “Nathan, what the fuck?”

The older man sighed. “Look, we’ll train today, you’ll take over my routine tomorrow and you’ll ace it, I know you will.”

Stiles looked at Nathan, then at his crutches and finally at the cast around at least half of his right leg. “Does it hurt?”

Nathan just shrugged. “It’s worse that I can’t skate,” he answered. “But back to our topic, you _have_ to fill in for me, Stiles.”

Stiles frowned at the way he spoke those words. “You already got clearance from the legal department and the committee didn’t you?”

“I did, actually,” he answered. “On the bright side Finstock is thrilled, my coach less so, but oh well.”

“Finstock knows and he didn’t tell me?” Stiles asked annoyed. “Chen, I swear to you, I will murder you.”

“Can you just go away?” Derek intervened annoyed, looking up from his book again.

“I’m so sorry you have to share a room with a hockey player,” Nathan whispered. Still, it was loud enough for Derek to hear and bore imaginary holes in the back of Nathan’s head with his glare.

Stiles grinned. “Oh, I have no idea why I’m okay with this, but I think it’s time to train.”

~

Stiles was going to pass out. He was on the verge of crying. Ten countries and the United States was sixth. Which meant he had to wait for five routines before he could get on the ice.

“You’ll be fine,” Coach Finstock said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is your moment, Stiles, you got it.”

Stiles did not answer. His legs were trembling, and his eyes were plastered on the television screen, which was showing the ice and the audience. They were going wild.

“I am curious how Canadian Patrick Chan, being the veteran of the club, will perform between these youngsters,” the commentator spoke. “Because we have some very young athletes.”

“Young, and hungry,” the female commentator said, agreeing. “One of the youngest being our own Stiles Stilinski.”

“That’s also an interesting cause, for the viewers at home, world champion Nathan Chen would skate the men’s short program for America, but Thursday night we got news that Chen had injured himself and Stilinski would take his place,” the male commentator explained. “I have never heard of such bad luck before.”

Stiles was going insane. Why were they talking about him on the national television? _Jesus Christ._

“At thirteen Stilinski got a gold medal at the World Junior Figure Skating Championships in Milan, before that he won several national championships and people even called him the new Scott Allen,” the woman continued. “What do you think, Jeff?”

“I think he will make us proud, Jolene, the other countries have very strong contestants too though, I wonder if Stilinski is prepared enough, since he had to train at the last minute,” the man – Jeff apparently – answered.

“I’m worried about the fact that he didn’t skate in contests since Milan, back in 2013, which means he hasn’t been skating for five years, that’s quite a lot of not-skating,” Jolene commented.

Stiles closed his eyes.

“Don’t listen to them,” Nathan said, appearing out of the blue. He sat down next to him, stretching his broken leg. “You’re gonna rock it, I know you will, and just,” he shrugged. “Focus on having fun, and how much you love skating, the judges will love that, also, that’s exactly your style of being phenomenal.”

Stiles nodded quickly, breathing out slowly. Meanwhile, the screen didn’t show the tribune – filled with people – anymore, but the list of contestants that would skate the men’s short program. Stiles saw himself right at number six.

First Korean Cha Jun-Hwan would skate. Followed by Canadian Patrick Chan. Then Israeli Oleksii Bychenko. The fourth contestant was German Paul Fentz, before French Chafik Besseghier would skate. Then, and only then, Stiles could finally do his thing and get this over with. After him only Chinese Han Yan, Russian Mikhail Kolyada, Japanese Shoma Uno and Italian Matteo Rizzo remained.

“The Japanese,” Stiles breathed. “I have seen him train, he is unbelievable.”

Nathan nodded. “Yeah, he’s intimidating,” Nathan confessed.

“And Chan is amazing,” Stiles followed.

“Amazing, but old,” Nathan tried to comfort him.

“And Bychenko, he was competing last Olympic games too,” Stiles muttered next.

“And placed 21st,” Nathan countered immediately. “You’re only scaring yourself, Stiles, you got more medals at a much younger age, that must mean something. Don’t put yourself down like this.”

“I haven’t done this in five years,” Stiles repeated the commentator. “I’m still scared to even let myself think about being here, while in fact I am here and I have to compete against people who have been in this game much longer than I have.”

Nathan grabbed Stiles’ hand between his own. “Listen to me, Stiles, don’t worry too much, and ignore what people say or think. You got this, I believe in you, Finstock believes in you, _hell_ , all the Americans believe in you. Just have fun, it’s not the end of the world if you don’t get a medal.”

Stiles breathed out and nodded. “Thanks.” Nathan was right. He was at the Olympics; he should just enjoy himself.

Nathan nodded, letting go of his hand. When they looked back at the screen, they were a little shocked to see Canada surpass Korea with a score of 81.66. Or, at least, Stiles was. Nathan just shrugged it away.

Before Stiles knew it he had to prepare himself, because France was almost done. Israel was currently up top with a score of 88.49.

He ignored all the people around him wishing him luck, mentally preparing himself. He shuddered and slowly placed himself near the entry of the rink. Even from over here he could hear Jeff and Jolene comment on Besseghier. Apparently his score would be low due to the fact that he did not carry out technically hard jumps, spins or steps and the ones he did weren’t perfect.

Stiles just hoped his routine was enough to place America for the free skate next week. Then it hit Stiles. The fact that he was so nervous was not because he was scared to lose. He just didn’t like the fact that he had to do Nathan’s routine. It was Nathan’s not Stiles’. But it was too late now to change that.

Or… was it?

He totally missed Besseghier’s points, as his eyes and mind planned some extras on Nathan’s routine. Was he really going to do this? _Jesus_. The routine had to fit his music, he reminded himself, and the time.

Okay, breath in and out Stiles. “You got this,” he mumbled to himself.

When he heard his name, he got on the ice and was deafened by the screams of the audience. There were so many people, chanting his name, rooting for his country, smiling, and dancing.

He closed his eyes for a moment and just felt the ice underneath him. It was okay. It was just like back in Beacon Hills.

The music started, and he opened his eyes.

_Showtime_.

~

98.47 points.

“You were amazing, kiddo,” his father said later that night, enveloping him in a big hug.

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles breathed, hugging his old man back.

He still could not believe it. He had placed himself second. Only Shoma Uno, the Japanese he had feared, had beaten him. Which he had totally seen coming. What he did not see coming, however, was that he would score that high.

His social media had exploded. The news sites and papers had written about him. People wanted to interview him. There were tons of congratulations and compliments.

It was a lot.

He was sitting with Nathan, and a few other skaters, when the hockey players got in.

Isaac immediately noticed him and got to their boot. “Dude, you were so awesome, like I’d have probably broken some bones if I did the things you did.”

Stiles smiled at him. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Yeah, dude, you got me so fucking worried when you didn’t follow the routine, but it was awesome,” Nathan sighed content.

Stiles shook his head. “Okay, enough, stop it,” he said, still smiling. His jaw hurt from all the smiling.

“Stilinski,” Boyd greeted. “Congrats,” he nodded, before him and Isaac followed Derek to another boot.

“Aw,” Alex commented. “Are you getting a little shy?”

Maia, his sister, poked him between his ribs with her elbow. “Don’t be a dick, we still need him to root for us.”

Stiles grinned, taking another sip from his drink.

“Monday is the free program, you’re ready?” Bradie asked Adam intrigued.

Adam nodded, smiling.

She nodded. “I thought so,” she smiled at him. “However, I do think we will get a medal, guys.”

They cheered.

~

Stiles didn’t take the weekend off, like he probably would have done if he didn’t have to take Nathan’s place. Instead he planned out his routine over and over, went over his routine on Friday and marked his weaknesses.

He needed his single skate to be perfect. Alexa and Chris had placed fourth after Stiles’ routine on Friday. Which meant Stiles earned them nine points, the pair seven points, adding it up they had sixteen points at the moment.

At Sunday Maia and Alex added nine points to the party, with a dazzling performance. From the first time Stiles had met them, he had been in love with them and their performances. They were so synchronized, you’d almost think they were a twin.

After them Bradie placed fifth, earning six points for their team. She had cried for an hour. It was not something Stiles could handle, so he had informed the other girls of their team.

So, in total the American team had earned thirty-one points for the short program, tying them with Russia on second place. Canada surpassed them with an excellent score of 35. Which meant they had qualified for the free skate.

At Sunday Alexa and Chris also opened the first routine of the free skate. Stiles had already predicted that no one would beat Canadian Tessa and Scott. So, even their Alexa and Chris did not. Still, they got a score of 126.56 of the judges, which was… honestly amazing. Also, it added seven points on the charts for America.

Stiles was not one who liked to skate in a team, or a pair. That was why he was America’s male single skater. The fact that he was dependent on others and other on him was wrecking his nerves. Normally, he’d only have himself to blame if he failed, or himself to congratulate if he won. Now, it was a whole other story. He could barely focus on his own routine.

He was sure he had screamed and yelled and cheered for a hundred people. So, when on Monday the American’s skated again, he was sure he was going to pass out from stress.

Adam had started that morning, and even though Canadian Patrick Chan and Russian Mikhail Kolyada had both fallen down during their routine, they got a better score. It made Stiles mad, but he contained himself. He could not say the same about some people in the audience. Adam earned them eight points.

A little more than an hour later, the women’s free skate started and Mirai placed herself second.

At 12:20 PM the Ice Dance’s free skate would start, which America’s favorite siblings would skate. Stiles was so excited, but at the same time he had held his breath through their routine — well, at least it felt that way.

The American team had currently fifty-nine points. Which placed them second. Stiles didn’t dare to say it out loud, taking that like an omen of bad luck, but he dared to think their American team had gotten themselves a medal.

Still, the suspense was killing him. He knew Canada would stay unbeaten, since they already had 63 points and there was no way Tessa and Scott would get less than ten points. They were those people that were born on the rink.

But the tricky team was Russia. They were one point behind the American team, which meant that anything could happen. If Maia and Alex didn’t dazzle the jury like they normally did, there was a big chance they would go home with bronze.

They would skate as the fourth team, _after_ the Russians. Stiles started to bite his nails as he looked at how Dmitri and Ekaterina aced their diagonal step. The jury granted them 110.43 points, which placed them above Japan and Italy.

“Okay, okay,” Bradie breathed. “They got this.”

Stiles nodded. Honestly, the Shibutani siblings could beat them. Stiles believed in them.

And approximately four minutes later they put them all out of their misery. The judges granted the Americans a total of 112.01 points. Which was more than the Russian score. Which meant they’d all go home with a silver medal for their team game.

~

Stiles was happy, he had also a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of him as he walked towards his room. It had been past midnight, so officially it was Tuesday.

Derek was still awake though, when he walked inside, reading. It had been the first time since Thursday that they were both awake and together in their room.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, stripping, to change into his pajamas.

“Hey,” Derek greeted back, flexing his fingers, before turning the page. “Silver, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles grinned, looking at Derek, but he was still staring at his book.

“Congrats,” Derek said. It was emotionless, like he had just told Stiles two plus two was four. Then, “I saw you skate Friday.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles said, not really knowing what to do with that statement. Tiredly, he crawled into bed.

“You were good,” Derek said, still not looking up from his book.

“Thanks, Derek,” Stiles yawned. Then, when it stayed silent, Stiles closed his eyes and fell asleep. A smile still on his face.

~

Wednesday February 14th was the first hockey game. At least for the Americans. They lost it 3–2 against the Slovenians.

Derek had been bummed when he got into their room.

“Nice score,” Stiles had tried in vain.

The next day they won from Slovakia with 2–1.

“Nice score,” Stiles repeated sincere.

Derek smiled at him and threw himself on his bed. Then, “We’re not good enough.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Stiles immediately countered, even though he had no actual insight in the hockey contestants.

Derek snorted. “The Russians will crush us on Saturday and I’m not sure, but the Czechs are better than us too, which means we’ll lose the quarterfinals, even if we win again from Slovakia.”

Stiles stayed silent for a moment. “Never lose hope,” he finally said, turning on his side, to look at Derek.

Derek mirrored him. “Yeah, I don’t really mind to be honest, I mean, we’re here, in South-Korea, at the Olympics,” he grinned.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, it’s insane,” he commented. “I would have never imagined a few years back.”

Derek nodded. “Why’d you stop?”

Stiles felt his heart beat in his throat at the sudden question. “I wanted to focus on school.” It was what he had told everyone, every time they had asked.

Derek frowned at him. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

Stiles just swallowed. He wanted to make a joke about how Derek knew that while they supposedly hated each other. But he could not. All his emotions were blurry, so he just blamed it on that.

“My mom was sick,” he confessed.

Derek didn’t show any emotions, and kept silent, as if to encourage Stiles to talk further.

He just shrugged, which must’ve looked funny, as he was still laying on his side. “There was just this part of me that didn’t want to be happy again, or something,” he whispered, swallowing again.

Derek nodded. “I understand what you mean,” he said back. After another moment of silence he added, “It’s good that you started again.”

~

Derek and Stiles had wished each other good luck the next day. Derek’s game started at nine, Stiles’ and hour later. It meant they couldn’t cheer for one another because they were both busy with themselves.

Stiles was not any less nervous for his own game, than he had been for Nathan’s. But he was much more prepared for this one. And bonus: he only relied on himself. The Men Single Skating was what Stiles had come here for and he would rock it – or die trying. At least, he wanted to have fun. Which would happen with his Charlie Chaplin routine.

His mother had loved Charlie Chaplin. His movies had been easy to understand for someone who didn’t understand English. As she always liked to tell Stiles, when her parents came to the Unites States, her only friend was Charlie.

So, in a way it was a dedication to his mom.

~

“That makes a total of 80.69, placing Samohin under the Belgians,” Jeff commented.

“Oh, finally,” Jolene said happy. “Number nineteen is our Stiles Stilinski, I am so excited to see this.”

“Yes, me too,” Jeff smiled. “His short program performance will be inspired by Charlie Chaplin, when asked why him, Stilinski answered it was an ode to his deceased mother, who has been a big fan of Chaplin.”

Jolene smiled sadly. “That’s beautiful, let’s see, there he is!”

The audience saw Stiles make a round on the rink, waving at the cheering people. He saw his father, Melissa, and Scott nearby, and blew them a kiss.

“With his signature smile, Stilinski gets ready in the middle of the rink,” Jeff said. “He is wearing a costume with a small blazer, which is embroidered with a flower.”

“Iconic Chaplin,” Jolene explained. “He will dance to the soundtrack of Charlie Chaplin’s film Modern Times.”

“For the United States, Stiles Stilinski,” Jeff announced, followed by deafening noises from the audience.

Everyone turned silent as Stiles started to skate his routine, slowly warming up.

“It’s an absolute joy,” Jolene commented on his skating. “Let’s hope he is opening up with Quad Toe.”

Stiles did his first jump and Jolene immediately commented, in awe. “Oh, beautiful Triple Toe.”

Then he skated the other way. “Footwork all the way down the rink, up to the Salchow, and that was executed so easily,” she commented.

He followed it with an upright flying spin. After that trick, the audience started to clap to the rhythm of the music, as Stiles made his routine fun to watch; weird angles in his body, weird faces, funny walking.

“Last jump to go and this Triple Axel, so special. He’s able to play the audience and the judges.”

Stiles skated the other way again, stopping only to do a spin with a change of foot and no change of position, while sitting. It earned him some ear deafening applause.

“The other part of the rink gets the same treatment,” Jolene said, watching and waiting in awe for what else Stiles would do.

He continued his skating routing with a step sequence to the other side of the rink again. His two minutes and forty seconds were almost over, so het prepared himself for his end move. The audience got very silent as Stiles did a difficult spin combination with a change of foot.

“Oh, the judges got a task on their hands, every single piece of that short program by Stiles Stilinski was quality,” she commented breathlessly.

Then Jeff took over, “Stiles Stilinski, from the Unites States, barely nineteen years old.” The audience went even wilder, if that was possible. “Bobby Finstock, his coach, can be seen in the background. He loved that.”

Stiles waved at the audience and bowed, clearly trying to catch his breath.

“And, there we have it folks,” Jeff announced. “A total of 107.58 point, earning him first place.”

“For now,” Jolene quickly added. “Don’t forget, eleven other skaters still have to skate.”

“Indeed, but I do think Stiles may be very proud of himself, as are we.”

~

Derek was not in their room, which meant Stiles could put his hand down his pants. Because he was so _damn_ horny. He hadn’t come in a week, that must be a new record. He should get a medal for _that_.

“Jesus,” he muttered, as he touched himself. He was fully hard within seconds.

Still, it didn’t take long for him to be disturbed. Derek stumbled inside the room, including lots of noise.

Stiles frowned, that wasn’t like Derek. Then he saw Derek’s movements, illuminated by the moon and the streetlights — apparently, Stiles had forgotten to close his curtains.

“You’re drunk,” Stiles stated, loud enough for Derek to stop in his tracks and look at him. Which was… unpleasant, because he was still really hard.

“And you’re horny,” Derek stated back, raking his eyes over Stiles’ body. “Want me to help with that?” he finally breathed.

Stiles’ breath stocked in his throat. _What_?

Derek made his way to Stiles’ bed, swinging his leg over him, to sit just beneath his erection – still tucked away in his boxers. Derek on the other hand, had apparently lost his shirt and his pants.

Stiles’ mind was too slow to catch up to what was happening, before Derek said something again. “I can see your nipples through your shirt,” he said. “You’re still turned on.”

Even though it wasn’t a question, Stiles breathed, “Yes.”

“Do you want me to touch them? Do they ache?” Derek whispered sinfully.

Stiles dragged in a breath, feeling his erection jump. “We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered back. “You’re drunk, you hate my guts.”

“God,” Derek groaned, dropping his head on Stiles’ chest. “We’ve kissed before, Stiles.”

Stiles frowned. “No, we haven’t, trust me I’d know.”

Derek looked up at him, then shook his head. “You sometimes act awake, while you’re asleep, you talk, you smile, you even walk,” he said.

Stiles knew he was a sleepwalker, but still, what Derek was suggesting, was completely ridiculous.

One, kissing was something entirely else.

Two, why the fuck would Derek kiss him?

Three, why had he not said anything about it before?

Four, why the fuck would Derek kiss _him_?

“When was this?” Stiles just asked.

“Just before your freshman year,” Derek answered, biting his lip.

“That’s years ago,” Stiles gaped. “Hold on, why didn’t you say anything? Oh my god, is that the reason you hated me?”

Derek shrugged. “I’ve never hated you, it just took me a while to figure out that you had been asleep, therefore you couldn’t remember.”

Stiles leaned a little upward on his elbows, facing Derek.

Derek looked right back, biting his lower lip for a moment. “You were amazing this morning,” he breathed.

“Thanks,” Stiles breathed right back. He could not believe what was happening right now, and they really needed to talk about this. But not now. “Let’s sleep,” Stiles proposed, helping Derek off of him.

They ended up spooning.

~

The next morning, when Stiles woke up, Derek was not there. He looked at his phone to know what date it was. It was Sunday February 18th. Both Stiles and Derek didn’t have any games today, which worried Stiles.

Had he dreamt about him and Derek? Was he seriously slowly going insane?

The door opened mere minutes later, Derek walking inside. “Morning,” he greeted, not looking at Stiles.

“Morning,” Stiles said back. It was barely ten in the morning and Derek didn’t seem to suffer from the decisions drunk him made yesterday – or last night. 

Stiles couldn’t seem to figure out whether his brain had really made up what he had thought that had happened, or if it really happened. It didn’t make sense. Why would Derek be his normal self again, after they had kissed?

As if Derek heard Stiles’ thoughts he sharply turned around. “Sleep well?”

Stiles nodded, humming. Was he scared Stiles didn’t remember? Maybe Derek was scared it would be just like the first time – Stiles still could not wrap his mind around it. How was it possible that he had kissed Derek years ago and did not remember? “I remember,” he blurted.

Derek stirred. “What?” he breathed. “What do you remember?”

Now, Stiles was the one who was not sure. Derek was drunk, sometimes that made you forget things. What if Derek didn’t mean any of the things he said last night?

Stiles just swallowed. “Do you remember?” he finally whispered.

Derek looked into his eyes, trying to read everything he needed in them. He took a step towards Stiles, testing the waters. When Stiles didn’t seem to disapprove, Derek pushed him on his back on his bed and kissed him.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” was the first thing out of Stiles mouth, his cheeks a dark shade of red.

Derek dropped his head on Stiles’ chest again, letting out a laugh.

Then, it stayed silent. Seconds turned into minutes, turned into an hour.

“So, what now?” Stiles dared to ask, after he became fidgety. Derek was still laying on him.

“Don’t know,” he answered. “Anything you want.”

Stiles intertwined their fingers and hummed approving. “I think it’s time for a date as soon as possible.”

Derek looked up, cocking his head a little to the left. “Are we really going to do this?”

Stiles grinned. “Let’s just start over,” he proposed. “Just, tell me next time I do stuff while I’m asleep.”

Derek nodded, pecking his lips again.

~

A week later Stiles went home with two silver medals and a boyfriend. He couldn’t have wished for more.

**Author's Note:**

> Mature content: Stiles tries to jerk off (twice).
> 
> If there are any ice skaters (/lovers) on here, let me know if I was at least a little accurate, I tried my best haha. Let me know what you guys thought! Much love <3
> 
> The TikTok: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWKvbaFch_E  
> Javier Fernandez Charlie Chaplin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xl-J44YnRtw


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